


Dead in the Water

by sagitaurus



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-27
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:29:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagitaurus/pseuds/sagitaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'll be going back and editing this to my satisfaction later today/ tomorrow.  I've come down with a wicked head cold and was laid up yesterday, the day I had set aside to finally finish editing this chapter.  I promised myself I would post today no matter what, so I apologize for the shoddiness on the latter most part of this chapter.</p><p>Thanks for sticking with me everyone.<3</p><p>~Sagi</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It’s been so long since I’ve seen someone in my house. I’ve lost count of the days and years, barely noticing the sun rising and setting anymore. I’m not sure I could even notice now if I tried. Time doesn’t seem to move for me, even if I can see shades moving through the fog outside my window. My whole world, this solitary, empty house, has faded to nothing but grays.

No one comes here anymore. They used to come.

The first to come was a family, a mother and a father and a small girl, who was maybe three, maybe four. I didn’t care. They left me alone in the attic, and I was able to watch the sun move across the sky before it disappeared into the grey fog that was to come.

I had heard the neighbours warning of something awful that had happened in the house some years before, or at least, that’s what I think they were saying. Sometimes it was so hard to hear the words that came out of their mouths. It was just too soft, or maybe they’d been whispering. I could never tell. I never left the attic, and even when I had my ear pressed to the heating grate I could barely make out what was said. It had felt strange, worrying, since I had always been able to hear people downstairs, even on the first floor, clearly before in this way.

It wasn’t until the couple were about to have their second child that I started to care that my house had new owners. They invaded my attic, my sanctuary, and began to push my things into boxes, carting them away to god only knew where.

Of course I hid. I was afraid they would find a way to force me back out into the world, and I wouldn’t go. Not back out there. It was all bright lights and weakness and heart ache.

I wouldn’t go.

Slowly, over several days, all my things disappeared. There wasn’t much. Just a few tiny boxes now, a few scraps of newspaper that didn’t mean anything to anyone but me, but they were all I had left.

In a desperate attempt to keep everything from being stolen from me, I crept out when everyone else in the house was sleeping and stole back my favorite scarf, the one my grandmother knit for me just before she died.

She was the only one who had payed much attention to me as a kid. Everyone else was too busy with themselves to think of me. Maybe it was because she hadn’t come from money but married into it. She wasn’t even my real Grandmother. She was still my favorite anyways.

Even now, when I find it harder and harder to remember my past I can see her wild, helter skelter hair and devil-may-care grin, her laugh wicked and malicious even if she wasn’t, not really. She hadn’t taken crap from anybody until the day she died. She sure had given it though.

I had smiled softly looking down at the blue and purple stripes, fingers gently moving over the material. I don’t know how long I stared at it. Maybe it had been just before the sun rose when I picked it up, maybe I had stared at it, lost in thought, all night. All I know is that when the first bird squawked out it’s morning ‘wake up so I can annoy the shit out of you’, barely audible to me even then, I realized I had to hide again. Had to hide my prize.

And I did. They never found it. No one ever did.

Not the family, even after they had tried to take over my attic with their awful attempts at making it a nursery. Not even when I began throwing their shit out the windows in rage at the audacity of defiling my private place.

Not the elderly woman who bought the house after them who tried to remodel and rent out my attic as an appartment.

Not even the various teenagers, looking for cheap thrills, who broke in after the house was eventually abandoned.

It’s still my treasure, though I can’t seem to summon the strength to take it out and look at it anymore.

Now it’s just me and my secret, alone in this attic. I like to think that if there is any colour left in this world, it’s been trapped inside that scarf.

I’ll never know until I see it again.

I suppose it doesn’t matter very much.

Not much matters to me anymore.

Not the wraiths below me that wander through the fog.

Not the dull, lifelessness of the world.

Not even that I’m dead.


	2. Chapter One

It was, in essence, the perfect day. Fluffy wisps of cloud lazily sauntered their way across the sky, ever so gently urged along by the warm breeze that carried them. The sun shone in all it's brilliance, promising that spring was indeed in the air and things had better, very quickly, wake up and get about doing what this time of year was for.

For a spring day just this side of the winter thaw, one couldn't help being glad they were alive. Unless, of course, they were in fact dead.

Eridan, being of the latter, was enjoying the day in the only way he knew how. He didn't really care about it either way.

Like almost every day before this one he sat by the round picture window he had loved in life and stared fixedly at the ground lost in his own thoughts. He had been thinking much less lately, however long that was, and had begun to stare off into space more and more often, each time forgetting a little more about his past. So here he sat dredging his memories for anything at all to hold onto.

Pulling away from the unpleasant memories he had just relived, for lack of a better term, his gaze shifted from the wooden floor boards, buried under years of dust, out the window and into the swirling curtain of fog. He felt something like the beginnings of amusement as he always did when he considered that the moving wall of grey was the closest thing to a companion he had.

Tracing his incorporeal fingers over the pane of glass he didn't bother to investigate the feeling, knowing it wouldn't last long and had probably not been real in any case. Instead he focused his attention on his secod favoured hobby. Staring intently out the window in the freakish chance the fog decided to finally lift and reveal the world to him once more.

It was a vague, odd sort of hope that he felt when he did this, but he enjoyed the feeling none the less. It was one thing he had that couldn't be completely stripped from him it seemed. Funny how the things that he thought he didn't possess before seemed to be the things that held him together now. He dreaded the day he cracked.

With the emergence of that thought his sight focused on something in the milky grey down below.

Was that a person? He moved closer to the glass, nearly mashing his ghostly essence into it, eyes round as he stared.

As it moved closer it took on a slightly more solid shape, proving that it was indeed a person.

Eridan could feel the slight jolt that coursed through him, feeling almost like an electric shock. Thoughts began to tumble through his head. Who was it? What did they want?

The surge of restless energy settled slowly in his limbs, fading back into a malcontent detatchedness as the person disappeared from his view.

He wouldn't be able to discover what they wanted on his own, not if they didn't come inside, climb the endless stairs upstairs and into the attic. He frowned slightly at that, relaxing back and resting his head against the windowframe. Closing his eyes, he imagined what he would do if they did.

If they wanted to explore quietly, tense and afraid, like those teens that came before, he would allow it, watching them silently.

If they were here to deface his home, spray cans and knives to carve initials into the wooden beams he would do what he had to do to drive them away.

If they were here to live?

This fantasy stuck in his mind.

Would he drive them out again?

He didn't know the answer. He felt so very tired. Far more tired then he had ever been before. He wasn't even sure he could muster the energy to care if they came to change his haven.

Opening his eyes again he rose and slowly drifted toward the short flight of stairs that led out into the coridor that would lead back to the way down into the rest of the house.

Without much expectation he sat and he waited. Idle thoughts were interupted by muffled voices and soft thumps from the length of stairs leading to his cordor.

That same electric jolt coursed through him, proverbial heart skipping a beat.

Straining to hear the words, his whole being went into concentrating.

"-all it's a nice house. The foundation seems sound, but some of these walls are going to have to be torn down."

"Really? Will it be expensive?"

"Well-"

Someone else had obviously come in when he hadn't been paying attention. But they were talking about tearing his house apart. His mind buzzed like it hadn't in years.

Tearing down walls meant destroying his house, but they hadn't sounded like they wanted to rip the house down. No, it sounded as though they wanted to...rebuild.

His eyes flicked to the attic door, widdening as the door handle jiggled in an attempt to open it.

"I didn't think it would be locked. Do you-?" The question hung in the air and was almost immediately answered by a now distincly female voice.

"I have it right here. Sorry, if I can just- get by-"

The sound of the key being slid into the lock sent Eridan back several paces, head whipping back and forth to find somewhere to hide. The jolt might be fading, but they were still coming.

Moving so a beam now stood between him and the door he stared hard into it's grain and listened as heavy living feet shuffled their way up the stairs.

"Well this place's seen better days." The woman's voice sounded not disappointed, but hesitant as she glanced around.

A tall, heavy set man peered over her shoulder from where she paused and let out a small snort. "It looks like shit in here is what it is."

A small pang of annoyance drifted through Eridan's mind but he ignored it in favor of listening more.

"Oh I don't know. Clean it up a- lot," she let out a small, cough-like laugh, "give that window some new paint, sand down this wall here-" she gestured to the wall that had a half finished spray painted name, "I think it might look nice."

The man shook his head, eyebrows struggling to meet his hairline as they rose. "Well, if you're willing to sink the money into it-"

Another cough-like laugh as the moman interupted. "My mother bought this house over twenty years ago and lived in it for a year before she moved out. Something about ghosts or faeries. I don't know." The smile was in her voice and Eridan could hear she didn't believe in silly things like spirits. "No one's lived in here since. And after she died, well-" a pause, "she couldn't find anyone to buy this house, especially since she refused to set foot in it again. I just want to sell this place and forget what it did to Mum."

The man nodded sympathetically. "Of course. Well, we can go downstairs, go over the rest of the estimates-?"

The woman gave a curt nod, turning to leave the attic and her memories as the two made their clunky way down the stairs again.

Eridan didn't even hear them go.

They wanted to sell his house. New people moving in.

He didn't know what to think.

The workers arrived all at once. With them came large monstrosities in the fog, hauling both people and supplies that were quickly unloaded and hauled out of his view. The noise being made was greatly muffled by what Eridan could only assume was the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead. Out of habit, he moved periodically from watching the shades come and go from his picture window, to the grating that a literal life-time ago afforded him the advantage of listening to others on the floors below.

Despite his constant vigil Eridan had little idea of what was going on the house's lower levels. More then once he hovered by the only door that would lead him out of the attic and every time he would unconciously find himself back at the window not having even tryed to leave.

It was surprisingly easy to feel detached from the noises below, as if they were all imaginied, and yet his mind remained fixated on speculating what was actually taking place. After particularly loud noises Eridan would feel mild echoes of anger and annoyance flash through him but they always quickly passed.

Over the next five days the contractors worked Eridan began to see the wraiths more like bits of moving furniture, something that had become a permanent part of his home and nothing to worry about. It wasn't until the door to the attic opened and three people walked in like they owned it that he truely came out of his secluded thoughts.

He moved as far from them as he could while still being able to watch. He ducked into a small alcove and stared suspiciously as they brought buckets and machines up and scattered them around the filthy room. 

He watched as they slowly transformed his beloved attic into what it had once been. Floors and walls were scrubbed clean of thick, grey layers of dust and insect remains. Cobwebs were cleared from the rafters and the windows at either end of his haven were scrubbed until there was no doubt remaining that they were not in fact frosted. The shoddy attempts at graffiti were scoured from the large wall facing the room's one door. They gathered the alcohol cans left by one particularly stupid group of teens. Finally, when all else appeared to be done the trio buffed and waxed the floor until it shone. 

Eridan thought he might love these people for making his attic beautiful again. It had taken them the most of two days and Eridan couldn't help but feel a small pang that they were leaving. They hadn't been particularily interesting when they had spoken the odd time, but he couldn't help the feeling of endearment they had garnered.

Not long after the attic was finished then the noise from below slowly pettered off before fading completely.

With the lack of sound and movement Eridan's routine of moving from window to grate to door changed. His time became consumed by staring out the window, intent on discovering what the shades would do next.

Waiting filled him with an urgency he couldn't place. All of eternity seemed to be repeated in every moment, frustrating the ghost and causing him to lash out at the air more then once, but never enough to tear him from his vigil by the window.

He found a small amount of relief when, finally, he spotted shades moving once again in the fog of his yard. They appeared to be caring large blobs of black, white and grey. The realization they were moving in furniture wound Eridan's twitchy energy into an even tighter state. When no one came upstairs, or even appeared to linger long in the house at all his patiece wore out and he lashed out, kicking the thick beams supporting the roof. He wished desperately there was somthing to throw. Get someone's attention, but there was nothing. Not even the corpse of a rogue bug.

Sighing he slumped back and more time passed. The energy slowly disappated as time dragged by until eventually Eridan gave up on anyone coming back.

It was this completely disinterest in anything happen that seemed to be what was needed for something to happen.

People came in twos and threes, gathering inside, tantalizingly out of view, but still making a dull hum of life that even Eridan could hear.

His eyes drank in the shades, flickig between them as they moved toward the goal out of his sights. He finally settled on one shade and he was sure he couldn't shift his gaze if he wanted to.

After so much grey, nothing but the walls and the swirling greys of the afterlife, there were two points of freakish blue light. The figures melencholy drifted off him in waves, making it all the way to Eridan, reflecting feelings Eridan didn't even know he had been feeling.

With a start, Eridan realized the figure was looking right at him. His heart skipped a beat, or at least felt like it did, and he lifted a hand oh so slowly and placed it on the window pane, but the figure was no longer looking at him, moving inside as he followed the two shades he was with.

Turning from the window, Eridan raced to the door out of the attic, but quickly turned and paced back to the window, glancing out. He wanted so badly to leave the attic, but he wasn't sure if he dared. Could he leave? The question startled him. IT hadn't occured to him to leave in eons. There had been no where to go before, but now?

Now there was the blue-lit shade.

Turning abrubtly, he was back at the door before the decision to try had even fully formed. Tentively he reached for the door handle. Before he even reached the handle it began to turn, causing him to bolt for the stairs up to his small tower.

Peering out cautiously he watched three people enter. A man, small and dark, a woman, tall and fair, and the third, a boy, his boy-

Energy swirled and condenced in his chest, an intense cold that made his limbs feel vague and barely there.

He was here. In his attic.

His attention flicked back to the couple briefly, noticing they were speaking.

"Well it certainly is...well, big." The woman looked around thoughtfully, then down into the smiling face of what appeared to be her servant? No, she was too affectioate for that. Intrigued by the thought that they looked more like they were married, Eridan's eyebrows rose slightly as he looked back at what was their son.

Oriental? Even to his addled and unused mind this didn't seem right. Black and white did not make an oriental baby.

Still, what did it matter. He had to get closer to the boy, but he daren't move. His legs wouldn't listen either way.

The parents spoke on, oblivious to his inner turmoil.

"I do like the neighbourhood, there are a lot of new families just moved in, but the house is so expensive..."

The man smiled all the wider and took her by the arms, rubbing them up and down, "well why don't we deserve it? We've worked hard enough, and if we took out a small loan-"

Eridan glanced to the boy who wasn't listening. He skulked sullenly, first looking out the front window at the cul-de-sac outside, then turned and began to move across the attic to the stairwell Eridan stood on.

Scrambling back and up the stairs, Eridan heard the living boy climbing the stairs behind him.

Pressed firmly into the opposite wall, Eridan watched him appear with wide eyes.

The boy went strait for the window and peered out it, arms crossed and shoulders slumped.

"Sollux?"

Both Eridan and Sollux jumped, looking toward the short staircase.

"What?"

The woman's voice moved closer. "I asked you what you thought of the house."

His shoulders rose and he let out a short puff of breath.

He opened his mouth to answer but never got the chance.

Eridan had moved closer as the mother spoke, hand coming up to rest on Sollux's shoulder, almost speaking into his ear as he said his name.

"Sollux?"

That was enough for the taller male. His entire body had gone stiff and he now darted away, banging loudly down the stairs and out towards his father.

Stopping short and breathing hard, he stared hard at where he had come from, about to bolt out the door and downstairs at the slightest hint that whatever had whispered his name had followed him.

With a laugh, his father clapped him as high on his back as he could reach and Sollux smiled nervously back.

All three moved out of the room, Eridan drifting after them as far as the door before stopping.

Looking down at his hand in wonder, he couldn't help a small smile tugging at his mouth.

He'd been so warm.

Looking up he placed his hand on the door and willed Sollux to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be going back and editing this to my satisfaction later today/ tomorrow. I've come down with a wicked head cold and was laid up yesterday, the day I had set aside to finally finish editing this chapter. I promised myself I would post today no matter what, so I apologize for the shoddiness on the latter most part of this chapter.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me everyone.<3
> 
> ~Sagi


End file.
